


Loner

by GEM2000



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Family, Parental Issues, Troubled Past, friends - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 16:59:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8721622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GEM2000/pseuds/GEM2000
Summary: There was only one thing Emerson Jacobs feared more than the living corpses that yearned to take a bite of her: People. They had, evolved and become a prime example of Darwinian Theory. In her eyes, you fell into one of two categories: Predator or prey, and there was no way in hell she was going to become someone else's prey. She would rather die alone than help others in this world, but all that's about to change.





	

The backcountry Georgian road had rarely seen more than a couple cars travel down it a day before the world decided to shit itself. It was surrounded by lush waves of brown grass on one side, and a dense forest on the other, and the sunset ahead could have been taken straight out of a painting. The fading light shone into Emerson Jacobs’ light blue eyes as she drove down the abandoned road. She squinted and adjusted her hands on the steering wheel of the old Jeep, ducking her head to avoid the glare. She looked up just in time to avoid hitting the corpse shambling directly into her path.

The navy-blue Jeep swerved wildly as she jerked the wheel to the right, sending the tires to spiral and skid across the quiet road.

“SHIT!” She yelled as she spun the wheel, but it was too little too late and the car smashed into a tree trunk, the front crumpling and wrapping around the tree. Emerson instinctively crossed her arms in front of her face, but it did little to stop the airbag from knocking the air from her lungs and a sickening crack echoed through the wreckage as her right wrist snapped from the impact. Glass sprayed onto the dashboard, cutting into her arms and face like little knives as gray smoke rose from the hood of the Jeep. 

She groaned and sat up from her folded over position, dizzy from the accident, and coughed, gasping for air as the engine sputtered and died. She looked down at her injured wrist, a sense of relief washing over her when she saw it was the non-dominant one that had been broken. Perhaps a small gift from a universe that had decided to give her the worst luck possible. Small cuts littered her hands and forearms, and she winced as she pulled glass from a few of them, causing thin streams of blood to flow down her forearm. Blood ran down the side of her tanned face and she gasped at the sharp pain that radiated from a large gash in her hairline. 

Tumbling out of the car and landing hard on the pavement, she cried out in anger. Her bones shook upon and she coughed again, staring up at the sky swirling above her, not knowing if it was actually happening or if it just her disoriented brain tricking her. The ground spun beneath her and growls filled her ears. Emerson tilted her head to the side to see the corpse approaching the wreckage. Thankful that there was only one, she sat up, her head still spinning, and reached for the screwdriver tucked in her back pocket. 

As the corpse reached for her, she jammed the screwdriver into its fragile skull, black goo spurting onto her jeans as she yanked a small screwdriver out. She had to will herself not to get sick, both from the smell and dizziness. The corpse now lay on the ground, its jaw still gnashing, and Emerson kicked her foot into its head, stopping the growls. Grey sludge engulfed her shoe and soaked into her sock. She gagged and pulled her foot from the corpse’s skull.

“Thanks a lot.” She grunted as she kicked the corpse’s torso away from her. In reality, she had noone to blame but herself for this situation. What did she expect, trying to drive without as much as a learner’s permit? Emerson sighed and gripped the handle of the car door, using it to hoist herself up slowly, her legs shaky and the queasiness in her stomach intensifying as she stood. She glanced into the the passenger seat of the Jeep, looking for the small red backpack that she had sat next to her, but it wasn’t there. 

Fear gripped her as she looked at the bag sitting on the hood of the car, having gone through the windshield. The rose-colored fabric had glass scattered on top of it and the snap had flown open, allowing the small amount of food and medical supplies she had scavenged to fly out of the pocket and onto the blue hood of the Jeep. She limped as fast as she could to the front of the car, which had completely crumpled in on itself, and stared at the cans of corn and beans that had burst open. Water dripped down the front grill, draining her only bottle of its vital liquid.

“Dammit!” She shouted and slammed her non-injured fist on the hood. She slid down the side of the Jeep, resting her back against on of its wheels, and buried her face into her knees. Apparently the universe had decided she had been too lucky. Three weeks of traveling alone by foot, and the one time she finds a car, she ends up totaling it. 

The plan had been to meet Elijah, her cousin, in Atlanta. It had gone well in the beginning, considering the circumstances. Her group had been large and powerful, traveling the miles between her home in Savannah to the capital. But in the month before she ended up alone, it had fallen apart little by little, leaving only a few teenagers in the end. No wonder it disintegrated when the corpses invaded their camp. They had tried to hold it together, but no matter how hard you try, they always come.

She had been unusually lucky in finding the Jeep a three days ago. After weeks of travelling by foot, it had been a welcome sight. Even luckier that it still worked. Once she had killed the corpse strapped into the driver’s seat, she used what little knowledge Elijah had told her about driving to start the Jeep and get moving. Though she didn’t have her permit, they would go out every weekend to a local abandoned gas station parking lot in his old pickup. She would grip the wheel and listen to him yell at her to pump the brakes before running over a trashcan. Of course, that was before the world decided to shit itself. Now he was miles away in a city she had no idea how to get to.

Emerson was alone and lost in the backwoods of Georgia; an uncomfortable situation regardless of the threat of being devoured alive. It had been a shot in the dark, trying to drive that Jeep to Atlanta, but it had given her hope, possibly the only thing pushing her to find her cousin again.

Emerson sat against the wreckage as the sun continued to set in the distance. She wiped the tears of frustration sliding down her cheeks and slid the red flannel from her shoulders and fashioned a makeshift sling, hissing in pain as she slid her wrist into it. She tried rotating it, but it didn’t budge. 

“Nice goin’, Em.” She sighed. 

To make the situation even better, a choir of gurgles sounded in the distance. Emerson’s head shot upright, banging against the metal door. She rubbed the lump forming on the back of her head and stood. A horde of about thirty corpses were stumbling down the empty road, attracted to the smoke rising from the busted Jeep. 

“You gotta be kiddin’ me.” 

Emerson’s heart pounded quickly as she took off into the forest, trying to escape the wave of death slowly making its way toward her. But once a corpse caught your scent, there was no escape. The only way they couldn’t go was up, and the surrounding trees taunted her with safety, but with her wrist in the sling, there was no way she could climb. She limped until her heart felt like it was going to burst and and her head pounded loudly in her skull. Her bones ached and protested, and her shoes caught on roots sticking up from the ground. A few stragglers had split from the herd and followed her into the forest. Gripping her screwdriver tightly, Emerson ducked behind a tree, her breath frantic and shallow, as she waited for the groans to approach her, but they never did.

Confused, she circled around the tree. Her eyebrows furrowed at the sight of three corpses sprawled out on the forest floor, each one with an arrow protruding from their skull. Her eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat. She gripped the screwdriver tighter in her hand. If there was one thing that was more terrifying than the corpses, it was the people that killed them. Corpses were easy: slow, loud, and weak. People… they had evolved. They changed, reverting back to their predatory urges when civilization fell. 

Emerson ducked behind a cluster bushes and scanned the forest. There was a man, about ten feet away. She sized him up, noting his average height and build. The only thing preventing her from running was the large black crossbow slung over his shoulder. She stopped panting, and the forest was completely silent, the only noise reaching her was the pounding of her own head. Her legs shook under her weight and she shifted, cringing as a twig cracked underneath her boot. The man spun around and aimed the crossbow in her direction.

Her heart raced and she remained a statue behind the bush. She quieted her breathing even more, taking in short puffs through her nose. Emerson panicked and looked around the forest floor for anything to defend herself with. She backed away slowly, duck-walking behind a tree and pressing her back against it, shielding herself from the man’s gaze. Droplets of sweat ran down her face, stinging the multiple cuts from the glass, and her chest heaved as she took frantic breaths.

Emerson didn’t notice the rotting hand grasping for her until it gripped her arm. She let out a high pitched squeal and fell from behind the tree. The corpse fell with her, landing on top of her injured arm. She cried out in pain and jammed the screwdriver into its head. Brown sludge rained onto her face and she sputtered to get it out of her mouth. The corpse fell limp on top of her. Rolling it off her, she rose to her knees and wiped her eyes of the corpses blood, gasping for air. A shadow cast over her shaking frame and she glanced up at the arrow aimed directly in between her eyes.  
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"I'm just sayin', you could do some serious damage with this bad boy." Julian said, his bright green eyes glistening behind his glasses. He turned the small Phillips head screwdriver in his hand. Emerson gave him a skeptical glance as she tucked her knife in the waist of her jeans.

"Bullshit! No way in hell are you gonna kill a corpse with that." Nate replied as he pulled a machete from his belt, holding it above his head, the moonlight glistening in the fresh blood dripping from the blade. He pointed it toward Julian's much smaller weapon. "That's all yours, four-eyes". Emerson wiped her hands and onto her tanktop, leaving red smears down the front. Next to her, Derek and Marcus dragged the limp bodies of the camp's residents toward their designated spot. The empty parking lot was scattered with tents and surrounded by a wall of RV's. Nate led the group of teenagers through the large camp, like a pack of hyenas scavenging the desert, stopping at each tent and filling the black trash bags slung over their shoulders with supplies. Nate paused and turned toward Emerson, pulling the bandana from his face and letting it rest around his neck. He motioned for the group to gather around them.

"We're gonna split up." He announced, placing his hands on his hips. "Derek and Tyler, you take those five." Nate pointed toward the five RV's on Emerson's left. The teens nodded and unsheathed their weapons, turning toward the small group of vehicles. "Marcus, you and Julian get the five next to those." He turned to Emerson, his eyes boring into hers as he pulled the bandana up to shield his face. "Em and I'll take the others." The two started to make their way to their assigned RV's, their blades ready in their grips. 

"Do you really think this is the best idea? I mean-" Julian spoke up, wringing his hands together as he spoke, his eyes scanning the dark parking lot. "-What if there's more of them?". Nate huffed and turned toward the boy. He stared him down, his brows furrowed as he approached, his shadow swallowing Julian's much smaller frame. 

"We do what we always do." He hissed. "You gotta better idea, Johnson?" Julian looked past Nate's imposing form, his pleading eyes briefly reaching out to Emerson. Her stomach churned as Nate grabbed the front of Julian's t-shirt, lifting him slightly off the pavement, but she didn't move an inch. Julian swallowed the nervous lump that had formed in his throat and frantically shook his head, his glasses falling from his nose and cracking against the hard ground.

"Then don't open your fuckin' mouth." Nate said through his tense jaw as he released Julian, who quickly picked up his busted glasses and jogged to catch up with Marcus. Nate stomped back toward Emerson, his fists clenched and his chest heaving with heavy, angry breaths. He ran a trembling hand through his thick, dark hair and turned to her.

"Don't look at me like that." He demanded, she rolled her eyes at him.

"Was that really necessary?" She complained, crossing her arms over her chest. He glared at her.

"That kids gonna get us killed." He whisper-yelled, pointing aggressively toward the boy with the specs. " I ain't dying 'cause he can't keep his shit together." Emerson's eyes widened and flicked to the faint pink line on his left cheek, remembering how quickly he had stabbed Alex, the pack member that had caused it, during a fistfight over who should have the machete now strapped to Nate's waist. 

"Don't do anything stupid, Nate." His eyes stared into hers intensely, but she stood her ground. "We don't have the numbers we used to." Emerson continued. 

"You don't get it," He said, a strange desperation in his voice. He stuck his finger in her face, his intense grey eyes looking into hers as the bandana that covered his mouth moved with each word. 

"If he starts thinking that he knows better than I do, and I just sit back and let the other guys think I'm weak-" He said, placing his hands on her shoulders. "-then next it's Derek that starts to question me, then Tyler, then Marcus, and then it'll be only you and me left. Do you know how vulnerable we would be without those guys? Don't you get that? Sure, we need the numbers, but we need them to be loyal, or we ain't gonna make it." He pushed an unruly curl behind her ear and placed his blood-soaked hands on the sides of her neck. "I just wanna keep you safe," He moved his hand to the bandana covering her cheek. "You know that?" Em nodded against his hand. Nate had kept them safe, and without the other guys, she doubted that she would have made it this long, but the unease in her stomach prevented her from confirming verbally.

"Good. I still gotta get you to Eli in one piece." He chuckled, removing his hand from her cheek and using it to pull the large machete from his belt. The mention of her cousin had her gazing helplessly into Nate's eyes, like a lost child. She grabbed her large hunting knife from her waist and nodded. Nate looked toward the RV's and adjusted his grip on the blade before tilting his head back and sighing.

“Y’know, I don’t like doin’ this shit either.” He said. She looked up at him with watery eyes and shivered from the cool night air.

“Then why do we?” She asked. It was a question she already knew the answer to, but she wanted to hear his reasoning again, to reassure her. He sighed and shrugged his broad shoulders.

“‘Cause we have to.” He replied. “I have to keep you safe, Em.” She nodded, rotated the blade in her hand and let out a sad breath. She hated it too. She hated… taking things. But that’s what the world was now. You were either predator or prey. She looked over Nate's shoulder and toward the RV's.

"Let's go."  
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"You gon' finish that?" Emerson looked up from the flames devouring the bodies of the camp's residents in front of her and in the direction of the voice. Marcus had his eyes locked on the can of corn sitting in her lap, practically drooling despite the three empty ones strewn next to him. She sighed, placed the spoon she held back into the can and passed it to him. No matter how many times the group went through surrounding camps, the act always made her feel nauseous and faint. Marcus threw the spoon to the ground and slurped down the can, finishing it in a single swallow. 

She wrapped her arms around her abdomen, chilled from the cool summer night air. Across from her, Julian was completely absorbed in a map sitting on his knees, the fire reflecting in his cracked glasses. Next to him, Tyler dug his knife into a can of peas, cursing as he struggled to cut through with the dull blade. Her eyes moved to Marcus, the oldest of the group, who was chuckling over some unfunny joke with Derek, the largest of the group. Nate sat only inches away on her left, his eyes also focused aimlessly on the flames as he shoveled canned noodles into his mouth. Without the bandanas around their mouths, they looked much less threatening. The moonlight reflected off the light peach fuzz on their jaws as they ate savagely, like normal teenage boys. Emerson sighed again and stood from the flimsy plastic chair.

"I'm going for a walk." She announced. The other guys ignored her, but Nate looked up from the flames and started to stand from his chair. "Alone." pushing on Nate's chest and forcing him to sit again. He opened his mouth, but closed it again when he saw the determination in her eyes. "I've got my knife, I'll be fine." She promised him. He gave her a wary look, but ultimately turned back to his noodles. 

The night breeze was much more pure in the forest than in the camp. Back there it was heavy with smoke and the smell of burning hair, but out in the trees, it was fresh and delicious. Emerson took a deep breath, greedily taking in all the air her lungs could hold. This was where she felt most safe, sitting in the branches of a tree, high above any danger lurking below. No matter how much Nate tried to protect her, she would never be safe. There was no such thing as safe anymore, only safer. But up in the trees, she could escape the new rules of the world. She was safe from any corpses, or humans, that would see her as their prey. She rested her head against the trunk behind her and looked out into the night sky. How great it would be to have a rocket and just go live on the moon. Space was terrifying, an unknown and dangerous terrain, where the slightest mistake could kill you, but then again, that wasn't different from the supposedly stable Earth. She stared at those stars, disappointed she couldn't be among them as groans sounded below. 

Leaning over to get a sight of what she was up against, she saw a corpse stumbling in the direction of her new camp. She focused her gaze on the white smoke rising from where the guys were set up and groaned, smacking her head against the trunk.

"Dammit!" She whispered, frustrated that they would fall asleep out in the open. Shimmying down the tree, she snuck behind the corpse and buried her knife into it's skull. The corpse fell, taking her blade with it.

"What the hell?" She grunted, trying to remove the blade from it's head, but it wouldn't budge. She braced herself against its body and pulled when a hand gripped the back of her shirt. Emerson whipped her body around only to have another corpse fall on top of her, it's jaw gnashing only inches from her face. Bracing her forearm against its neck and pushing her head further into the dirt, she pawed at the forest floor, feeling for anything that could get the reanimated body off her own. 

She grasped a baseball sized rock tightly in her hand, and swung it hard into the corpse's head. Her hand sunk into its brain along with the rock, it's blood raining onto her face and into her eyes and mouth. Gagging, she rolled the limp body off her and looked behind the tree she had once sat in. A massive wave of bodies swelled in the forest toward the camp. "Fuck!" She cried out as she tried to yank the knife free from the first corpse before abandoning it as the corpses creeped closer.

Her legs felt like someone had set them on fire as she ran toward the camp. Emerson felt her heart drop and increased her pace as gunshots and yells rang out from the camp. She focused on each yell, trying to distinguish who it was making the noise. The forest around her blurred and she didn't notice the person running in the opposite direction, slamming into her and knocking them both to the ground. She coughed and sputtered, kicking at the body, only stopping once she recognized Julian laying next to her, clutching his right shoulder and gasping for air. 

"You gotta go!" He gasped. Julian looked back toward the camp, and Emerson followed his gaze. Tears started to glisten in his eyes as he shook his head.

"Tyler and Marcus are dead. I didn't see what happened to Derek." He said, searching the incoming horde. 

"What about Nate?" She demanded, but Julian focused only on the corpses. "Julian! Where's Nate?" She yelled, shaking his shoulders. Julian's frantic eyes met hers.

"I don't know." 

She dropped his shoulders and looked over hers, the pack only a couple hundred feet away. Emerson grabbed Julian's hand and pulled him with her as she ran in the opposite direction, but he only acted as deadweight, his heels digging into the dirt.

"Julian! We have to go now!" She yelled, her heart racing as a few stragglers came dangerously close. He looked into her eyes.

"Leave me." Emerson kicked away a corpse that had grasped her jacket and turned back toward Julian. 

"What?" She screamed as the corpse again grasped at her jacket. "I'm not fucking leaving you!" Tears streamed down Julian's cheek and he turned his left ankle toward Emerson. She gasped at the blood leaking out of the inflamed red indents in his leg. "Holy shit." She whispered. His tearful eyes searched her face as he handed her the small screwdriver she had laughed at earlier. She gripped it, staring at the tool in her hand, only moving when Julian pushed her shoulders away from him, pleading for her to escape.

She ran even though her legs protested with each step through the thick forest. She couldn't will herself to look back, to watch her friend be ripped apart, but his screams of agony were enough to urge tears out of her eyes. Emerson ran until the screams and growls couldn't reach her ears any longer. Finally stopping, she collapsed to the ground, tears, dirt, and blood mixing together as her body shook with violent sobs.  
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The arrow in front of her jostled slightly as the man spoke. 

“You alone?” He asked, his voice demanding and wary, but she didn’t answer right away. The arrow split in two, and both moved shakily, making her brain pound even harder. She swallowed hard, trying to contain her nausea. 

She nodded slowly and the man searched her face, his eyes lingering on the dark red streaks running down the side of her face. Blood had soaked into her curls, caking them together and turning the light brown dark and red. She tensed as his eyes made their way to her wrist, which was now twice it original size and wrapped with purple bruises. He looked back into her glassy blue eyes. 

“You’re hurt.” He said. It wasn’t a question. She stared at the arrow, her vision tricking her into seeing double. Slowly, she nodded her head. The man lowered his weapon and extended his hand toward her. She looked up at it, her eyes widening. 

“No, I-” She started, her voice barely a whisper. “-I don’t have anything to g-give you.” The man cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes.

“I don’t want your shit.” He explained. “You’re bleedin’ out.” He motioned toward his hand, but she just shook her head again.

“Don’t trust anyone that doesn’t kill you right away. They’re either stupid, sadistic, or both.” Nate’s voice replayed in her foggy head as she looked back at the crossbow slung over the man’s broad shoulders. Stupid or sadistic. 

Slowly, she stood up, bracing herself against the tree. The man extended his hand closer to her, but she shook her head again and pushed it away. He grunted and dropped it to his side, watching as she struggled to stand. She flipped her hair out of her eyes and looked at the man. 

“I don’t-” Emerson winced, her head spinning wildly. Her vision doubled again, turning the man standing in front of her into a mush of color. “-I don’t need your help.” The man scoffed and adjusted the crossbow on his shoulder. Emerson leaned against the tree, using it to stop her from falling over. The man looked around and sighed. 

“I ain’t gon’ force you to come with me,” He grunted. “But you’re ‘bouta keel over.” Emerson gritted her teeth leaned her head against the tree, looking up at the sky and groaning in discomfort and pain. Her knees involuntarily gave out beneath her and she fell to all fours, pain shooting through her broken wrist. The man sprung into action and wrapped his strong arms under hers, lifting her up. Emerson panicked, struggling and fidgeting, trying to free herself from his grip. Her fist hit his lip and he cursed and dropped her. 

She gasped and rolled onto her back, black spots invading her vision as the man stood over her. He brought his thumb to his lip and wiped away the drop of blood leaking from it. She tried to sit up again, to run from the man, but it was like someone had turned out the lights as her eyelids fluttered shut.


End file.
